


Separation Anxiety

by danu



Series: Overwatch Writing Prompts [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (me) - Freeform, All the OCs are daemons and extra side characters, Alternate Universe - Daemons, M/M, No Smut, Omnic Racism, Omnics, Omnics with daemons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unreliable Narrator, its a big deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:11:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danu/pseuds/danu
Summary: In a world where the human soul is expressed in a physical form called a daemon- an animal that shapeshifts until one reaches maturity- omnics are treated as lesser beings. After all, they don't have daemons. (Until they do.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a writing exercise. I'll probably post a few chapters and then move on to the next story (I have a few lined up, which I may or may not post as a series). Please enjoy, and feel free to contribute any constructive criticism or writing tips.
> 
> The first chapter is kinda boring, but I didn't spend a ton of time on this one.

His daemon is born settled. Her name is Rauha, a green-and-blue hummingbird of the Plovercrest species. Like any daemon, she speaks in human tongues. Her voice is soft and delicate. She experiences pain when she strays too far from him. She is not unusual in any way, and that is precisely what makes her a marvel.

Zenyatta is very, very special. When the last metal plate was sealed on his chest and the evening engineer activated him, little Rauha blinked into existence on his shoulder. 

Before the Crisis, omnics were simply machines. Meant to be human-like, to have a ‘personality’ subroutine that mimicked human nature, but still only a machine. After the Crisis, they began to add more safety nets. They were robots with morals now, very complex, with their own true personalities and opinions. 

Still, not quite human. Until Zenyatta.

Upon his activation, humans were forced to realize the dangers of the fire they played with. They were no longer creating soulless automatons. To have a daemon was to have a soul, and to have a soul was to be human. The implications were unfathomable.

The production director couldn’t deactivate him- he had a _daemon_ , for God’s sake, that would be _murder_ \- but neither could he sell him like the rest of the omnics. What to do?

While he worried, his factories produced thirteen more omnics with daemons. They ranged from birds of prey to lap dogs, snakes, and even a deer. The United Nations ordered him to cease productions immediately.

Zenyatta was ‘born’ before Mondatta, but he’d never had the younger omnic’s way with words. It is to Mondatta that he owes his life, because the United Nations listened to him. 

Fourteen omnics were granted citizenship and human rights under the condition that nobody attempted to recreate their kind. They chose to hide themselves away in the mountains of Nepal and live untroubled. 

It worked out fine, for a time. Until their existence became known to the public.

Technically, the omnics weren’t a secret. They had simply never been reported on, never announced. Their lives were uneventful, quiet, and that was just fine with them. They had much to think about, much to study. 

The peace was shattered the day a group of hikers stumbled upon a monastery that wasn’t shown on their Holo-Map. When they rang the doorbell, an omnic answered- not unusual, but most monks chose not to indulge in robotic servants. The omnic was accompanied by a cat. A regal creature, with long silver fur. 

“A lovely pet,” they remarked.

“Oh no,” he said with a chuckle- _hm hm hm!_ “Vilkas is not a pet. Rather, he is my daemon.” The cat- Vilkas- laughed with him.

The hikers, needless to say, were dumbfounded. They were invited in, treated to what facilities were available (“We all have beds, though we do not require them. And restrooms, though we have no need of those either. I admit, it does seem rather silly in hindsight.”)

He introduced himself as Tekhartha Mondatta. He showed them around, as any polite host might, and introduced them to other omnics as they appeared. 

“Ah, Brother Azendetta! We have guests, won’t you come say hello?”

“This is Brother Baretta, our resident engineer. Brother, look at this- humans, in our home! How delightful!”

Of course, after that the monks were quite overcome with the traffic to their home. Mostly reporters and researchers, but some men and women of faith stopped by sometimes- with the intent to ‘teach the ways of (insert belief here)”, he had no doubt, but they usually left without imparting anything of interest to the omnics. Occasionally, they learned something, and thus the omnic monks’ reputation grew.

They began taking human missionaries in, or nomadic monks and priests seeking to learn from them. They had a kitchen built, and a new wing for housing all their guests. 

Zenyatta’s life had changed, yes. But it had not changed _him_ , and he found it slightly disappointing. He studied, and he taught- to small groups, he was never comfortable among crowds- and he meditated as he’d always done. Mondatta was discontent in other ways. He felt that he wasn’t reaching out far enough, that if only he could be heard by more people, he could fight the injustice being done to other omnics. 

Sometimes, Zenyatta would speak to Rauha of his personal thoughts as he meditated, suspended in air, with his nine orbs of Harmony floating about him.

“Do you feel incomplete, Rauha? Do you ever wish that I had been human instead?”

“Are we not doing enough? Perhaps Mondatta is right- but I do not wish to leave this place of peace. I fear what might become of us, should we travel the world. Is that selfish of me?”

“What happens to a machine when his daemon is killed? Does it cease to function? What part of it specifically breaks, and can it be fixed?”

Rauha would answer him;

“I have never felt less than any other daemon for having to share my soul with someone who was built, rather than born.”

“It is not selfish to preserve one’s own life. But, I think the value of what we may potentially teach the world outweighs the value of our shared life.”

“I do not know, any more than you do. But I do wonder- if one’s daemon takes the form of a sheep, do they require shearing once a year? And if so, what happens to the wool when it is separated from the daemon?”

They discover the answer to his last question a few weeks later, when an armed attacker breaks into the monastery. They shoot Brother Azendetta’s daemon. They hear the gunshot, the shattering of glass, and then they hear the scream. 

He does not stop screaming. It’s as though something in his inner computer has malfunctioned, an error in the code, but physically nothing is wrong with him, so his body continues to work. They find him slumped over his desk, like a puppet with its strings cut. His facial features continue to glow pale blue. He continues to scream in one shrill, unending cry. 

Brother Baretta attempts to restart him, to no effect. He makes one last-ditch effort to wipe his memory- no effect. Every time he turned the omnic back on, the scream would start again. The daemon did not return.

They buried him in the garden. 

The UN reports that multiple terrorist organizations claimed responsibility for the attack, and that several anti-omnic groups were in support of the event. They do not, however, offer the monks any protection. Mondatta and Vilkas argue with the representative while Zenyatta and Rauha listen quietly. 

Zenyatta is the first to get the upgrades, and the first to install the Offense Protocol program. “To defend yourself,” Brother Baretta says. Zenyatta says nothing. Mondatta refuses entirely.

It doesn’t feel any different, at first. Life has changed around him once again; even his body has been altered. But true self is without form, and his true self remains the same. 

Mondatta announces his departure, and Zenyatta is not surprised. He will be more fulfilled out in the world, speaking to the people, than he ever was here. He says as much to Rauha the next day, and she agrees.

The day after that, he leaves with a small mission of two other monks and a group of acolytes. Life returns to normal, save for the gaping holes where Mondatta, Azendetta, and their respective daemons should be.

They see Mondatta on the news sometimes. He gives speeches and sermons to enormous groups, packed amphitheaters, and various television channels. 

They visit the grave sometimes. It’s a silent, somber affair. A reminder of what could easily become of any omnic like them. 

Life goes on, and Zenyatta cannot help but feel like he was left behind.


End file.
